


Cosplay Conundrum

by emissaryofrainbows



Category: Original Work
Genre: Boyfriends, Fart Fetish, Farting, Gay, Gay Male Character, Gross, M/M, Masturbation, Mutual Masturbation, Weird, Yaoi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-04
Updated: 2020-04-04
Packaged: 2021-02-28 19:42:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,997
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23482597
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/emissaryofrainbows/pseuds/emissaryofrainbows
Summary: A birthday gift for the incredible artist Octoboy that I spent an embarrassing amount of time working on.A pair of Danganronpa cosplayers have to cut their photoshoot short after some food leaves them incredibly gassy. They discover, after rushing back to their hotel room to release all their pent-up farts, that they might enjoy their flatulence-and each other, more than they thought.
Relationships: Original Male Character/Original Male Character
Kudos: 22





	Cosplay Conundrum

So dedicated to the craft of cosplay were these two young men that they refused to refer to each other by any name other than the ones of their respective characters. Shuichi and Kokichi were well known in the cosplay scene, going from convention to convention to show off their latest perfectly accurate costumes.

Currently, they were attending the largest anime convention in all of North America, or at least, that's what the promoters claimed. The evidence seemed to be on their side though, as the convention center was absolutely packed. It was an unbroken sea of colorful costumed humanity from the entrance to the building to the exit. Any given attendee would find that not a moment could pass where they were not rubbing up against someone else.

Save for Shuichi and Kokichi themselves. They were no mere attendees-no, they were VIPs. As they entered the glass and steel building, the mob of con goers parted before them like the Red Sea. They knew that they were in the presence of greatness; they could neither tear their gaze away from them nor bring themselves to come too close, lest they soil the costumes that they had clearly put countless hours of work into.

The Kokichi cosplayer was the shorter of the two, although their difference in height was not nearly as dramatic as the character's were. Unfortunately, that was one inaccuracy that they simply couldn't avoid. Everything else was spot on from head to toe, starting with his hair. His wig was indistinguishable from real hair, which was an especially impressive achievement considering that it was dark purple. Unlike many a sub-par Dragon Ball cosplayer, Kokichi managed to wear his impossible anime hairstyle as though it had simply been combed that way, instead of held together by a tub of hair gel and a series of wires. Wavy tendrils of blackish purple with violet tips bobbed up and down realistically with every proud step he took through the separated crowd.

Next on the list were his eyes, which had obviously been fitted with purple contact lenses, and given a thorough outline of eyeliner to match the game's style. One thing that no amount of makeup, wigs, or contacts could improve was his facial structure. His natural androgynously handsome features were enough to make him look like a real-life anime character.

Their glamor was no less diminished in the eyes of their admirers when Shuichi turned to his friend, hand on his groaning stomach and said: "Hey, we should probably get something to eat." Kokichi agreed, and so the two went off in search of one of the many food carts that occupied the convention center. Though their appetites could've been sated with the classic all-American combination of nugs and fries, the two cosplayers agreed to try something a bit more adventurous.

They weren't sure exactly what it was this cart was offering, due to the lack of English lettering on its menu, but whatever it was smelled delicious enough to cross over any language barrier. They pointed to the words next to the image of the food they wanted, and each were handed something delicious, steaming hot and stuffed with all sorts of meats, cheeses, vegetables, and beans.

If only they knew what was in store for them as that tasty goodness passed their lips. Out of all the ingredients contained within the foreign treat, both boys possessed an unfortunate allergy to at least one of them.

"That was pretty good," Kokichi said, giving his satisfied tummy a little pat. "We should definitely come back here later," he added.

The symptoms of their allergies didn't manifest at first, and if they did, it was only in the form of a few modest but bassy belly grumbles that could easily be written off as the whines of a stomach that was just slightly overfull.

"So, where to next?" Shuichi asked. "We've still got like an hour until the photoshoot."

Kokichi shrugged his slender shoulders. "I dunno. Maybe we could wander around for a bit, see if we find anything interesting."

And so they did, exiting the little bubble of open space that surrounded the food cart and allowing themselves to be absorbed into the chaos of huddled bodies that was the main part of the convention floor once again. The bustle of the crowd was so persistent and so loud that it almost muffled the sinister, bassy gurgle that Kokichi's stomach emitted. Almost.

"Ugh, whatever we ate I don't think it's agreeing with me," he said, resting a hand to his tummy. A sharp cramp from his midsection made him feel like he'd just been folded in half.

"You know, now that you mention it..." Shuichi laid a hand to his own stomach, as a similar sensation and sound started to bubble up in his guts. The deep sound of the gurgles, combined with their origin point in the lower half of the boy's guts, and the pressure that was beginning to push against their desperately clenching assholes gave an embarrassing indication of the exact sort of digestive process they were facing.

There were big bubbles of gas building in both boy's bowels, and they wanted to come out almost as desperately as the cosplayers wanted to hold them in.

"We have to get out of here," Shuichi said, clutching his plump cheeks together with all of his might. His cheeks turned scarlet, and he was beginning to sweat, clenching one eye shut as he doubled over in discomfort, cradling his aching gut in his hands. "Forget about the photoshoot too. There's no way I'm ripping ass in front of all these people."

Judging by the immense pressure that it caused, the gas that was brewing in both of them would've be expelled as a modest squeaker that could be easily ignored and drowned out by the roar of the crowd. No, this would be the sort of explosive anal eruption that would echo through the halls of whatever room it was released in, and cause a whole crowd of people to suddenly stop and turn to identify the source of the offending explosion.

"Maybe we could use the bathroom, it's right there-" Kokichi said, cutting himself off before he could even finish his idea. "No, it's packed full of people. There's no way they won't hear us."

"We should just head back to the hotel," Shuichi said. "We'll just wait for this to blow over, and then we'll head right back here like nothing ever happened."

Kokichi nodded in agreement, and so the boys made their move.

They made a beeline for the exit, their movement reduced to an awkward bow-legged waddle, for fear that an ordinary stride might cause all that gas to slip out accidentally. Luckily their hotel was only a few blocks away, and their room only required a short trip on the elevator to reach. They still got a couple of awkward stares as they waddled their way through the lobby, though that may have just been because of their costumes.

They exploded out of the elevator the moment it's doors opened with a 'ding.'

"Come on, open it!" Shuichi said, desperation reducing his voice to a whine. Kokichi swiped the card to their room against the scanner several times before it finally registered, and the lock was disarmed with a click. Kokichi threw the door open, and then the pair both darted towards the opening immediately. From there they made a simultaneous rush for the bathroom, which they would soon discover was not the wisest idea.

Kokichi managed to reach the door first, and ended up blocking the doorframe with his body as the other cosplayer attempted to push past him. "Come on, I gotta go!" Shuichi whined, trying to force his way past the outstretched arms of his friend who had turned himself into the goalie of the bathroom.

"No way! I'm going first!" Kokichi replied. The cosplayer was currently in the middle of an impossible balancing act, trying to keep his asshole clenched shut in the face of impossible gastric pressure while also trying to hold back his friend from behind. Something had to give, and in the end it was Kokichi's poor, struggling asshole that ended up surrendering first.

With a rattly sound like paper flapping in the breeze, a study gust of warm air erupted from between Kokichi's tightly clad cheeks, with such force that he was surprised it didn't tear a hole clean through his pants. It billowed against Shuichi's crotch at point-blank range, provoking the last reaction that either of them were expecting.

Blood rushed to Shuichi's cock, causing it to steadily swell and bulge against the lower half of his cosplay. He just couldn't help it. As disgusting as it was, there was something about the feeling of his friend ripping ass against him-the force, the sound, the warmth-that caused his cock to stiffen as that bubble of gas erupted against it.

It was just so...steamy, and thick, like a dense fog. It reminded him of the vapor rising from a scalding shower, like the one that was mere feet away from where he stood. If he could've just pushed past Kokichi, he could've relieved himself in there, instead of being stuck with bowels crammed full of the same sweltering gasses and the most awkward erection anyone's ever had.

Kokichi's reaction to his own sputtering, raspy fart wasn't much better in terms of embarrassment, though. The relief was so great that his jaw went slack for a few seconds, and he could swear he felt a bead of drool soaking into the fabric of his cosplay.

Shuichi was so shocked and ashamed of his butt-blast borne boner that Kokichi was finally able to nudge him out of the doorway, slamming the bathroom door shut behind him and locking him tight.

As voluminous as the hot blast of butt fumes he'd expelled against Shuichi's cock had been, it was only a small sample of the windstorm brewing in his bowels, putting what felt like a hundred pounds of pressure against the poor cosplayer's flexing, aching asshole.

Shuichi wasted a few seconds pounding on the bathroom door, until finally he accepted that Kokichi wasn't going to let him in. He had no choice but to relieve himself in their hotel room, and if Kokichi was to exit the bathroom only to be greeted by a thick miasma of his friend's farts, well, that's exactly what he deserved for blocking off that doorway. Shuichi tried to ignore the fact that he could still feel the drumbeat of his erection pulsating against his thigh.

It wasn't nearly as intense as the pulsing of his poor, clenched asshole, which felt like it could erupt at any second. No matter how much he clamped and clenched, his desire not to rip a massive fart in front of his friend was outclassed by how much more intensely that bubbling gas wanted to come out of him.

He let out a cry as the pressure reached his apex, and he simply couldn't stand to hold it in a single second longer! With a whimper that grew into a shameful moan, as all that painfully pent-up gas came rushing out at once.

A humid barrage of anal air erupted from the boy's asshole with the force of a cannon, and a sound that was just as defeaning as artillery being fired. The shocking sensation of all that warm wind exploding out of him at once made the boy's mouth mirror his asshole, in that both were left gaping wide open and drooling. The flatulence coming out of his ass stretched out the boy's hole as surely as any dildo going into it would have. It would take him days for his ass to go back to its normal state, if it ever did, but Shuichi didn't have time to worry about the future. The hurricane of gale force flatulence made it impossible to think about anything else.

Not because of the shame, not because of the overwhelming sensation, though those did play a part. Mostly, it was just because it felt really, really fucking good.

"W-why, why does this feel so good?" he stammered, his voice barely audible over the ceaseless din of his own overactive asshole.

Meanwhile, Kokichi was experiencing a similar bout of ass turbulence within the confines of the hotel bathroom, which he had discovered wasn't as much of a safe haven for him to release in peace as he had thought. Just like his cosplaying partner, he had rapidly reached a point where his tremendous gas could no longer be held back. A huge, ass-stretching windstorm erupted out of him, with enough force to ripple both his coat and his plump, round butt cheeks.

"S-sh-ahh!" he cried, wincing as he clutched helplessly to his stomach. He hoped the walls would muffle his shameful release so his partner couldn't hear him, but the thunderous ripping he was unleashing could be heard through even the most thorough soundproofing.

Not wanting to ruin part of his precious cosplay, which was a real risk, considering that his pants were white and this fart was forceful enough to tear a hole clean through of them, Kokichi quickly stripped off his bottoms, leaving himself in nothing but his boxers, which were quickly flung on the floor alongside them.

Now there was no more fabric to serve as a barrier between Kokichi's overworked asshole and the increasingly humid air of the hotel bathroom. Kokichi tried to avert his gaze from the mirror, lest he see his own reddened face clenching with excretion. Luckily he wouldn't have to worry about the mirror for long, as his sultry farts fogged it up until it was impossible to see anything through the condensation.

The part of Kokichi's rational mind that wasn't overwhelmed by his monster of a fart compelled him to waddle over to the toilet, while a torrent of farts continued to erupt out of him without so much as a single pause. He hovered his bare ass over the bowl, and didn't so much let out the fart brewing inside of him as he finally stopped trying with all his might to hold it in.

There was the great, bassy rumble of his flatulence, which reverberated against the inside of the bowl. It was quickly followed by a sound like a stone being dropped into a bucket of water. His fart was so forceful that it made the water splash. Under normal circumstances, the feeling of those cold water droplets against his smooth naked ass would've made him yelp, but these were anything but normal circumstances. He was too overwhelmed by a three-pronged wave of relief, humiliation, and arousal for anything else to register.

The sounds from the inside and outside of the hotel bathroom mirrored each other, a chorus of sputtering farts, elongated moans and audible whimpers. Shoichi's farts were making him ache from both ends, but only the remedy for his stiffy could be achieved by his own hands. As mortifying as it was, he simply couldn't hold back any longer, and he allowed himself to succumb to his desires, clasping around his pulsating cock and rubbing up and down with a long, steady pump.

"I can't believe I'm doing this," he thought.

Kokichi couldn't believe it either. His disbelief and disgust wouldn't stop him from doing it though. It'd hardly even keep him from hesitating, though his strokes were slow and pensive at first, they quickly picked up pace until he was shamelessly pumping away at his erection as his ass continued to erupt into the toilet with a series of watery thuds.

"Why is this so hot?" was the only thing that went through his mind, but even that thought was short-lived. Kokichi couldn't process more than the task in front of him, as all other thoughts were smothered by a blanket of feverish arousal. No more thoughts passed through his head, only physical sensation, and there were two that stood above the rest: the building pleasure in his cock, and the steady, warm rushing pleasure of his gaping gassy ass. It was still an open question as to which would bring him to climax first.

A few moments later he got his answer.

Kokichi's cumshot wasn't nearly as oversized as his farts were, but it was still well above average. Every last drop of cum was drained from his balls in that, as he experienced the most powerful climax of his life. It was localized around his tuckered out asshole, but the waves of pleasure spiraled out to all corners of his body, filling him with warmth. It was difficult to discern how much of that heat was organismic bliss and how much was shame.

Shuichi was still reeling from the experience of finding out that he was a filthy fart-slut in real time. If only he'd been cosplaying as Shinji instead, then the way he was looking down at his cum-coated hand would've been even more appropriate.

The sole saving grace of Shuichi's shameful situation is that he didn't have to be alone in his perversion, as his friend had experienced a similar transition from fart-filled euphoria to utter shame.

He exited the bathroom, allowing the lingering vapors of his gas into the main room, which, as it turns out, was pretty thoroughly tainted with cosplayer boy farts and cum as well.

"K-Kokichi?"

"Did you...?" he said.

"As long as you did," he replied.

There was no denying what they had done, not to themselves, and not to each other. Their terrible, perverted deeds were apparent, by the cumshots that lazily dribbled down from the spots where they had left them, the wet aftershocks still seeping through their bottoms, and from the lingering, humid vapors of their gas that still filled the hotel room.

"...Maybe we could...do this again sometime?"

..."Do you think that food cart is still open?"


End file.
